Last Day as a Caterpillar (2007)
Flicka Flicka beats my unhoping heart. My chest harbors a pipe-laying assassin. Glue on heads and wiggly legs. Pump my abdomen with poison.I will never become a nervous chrysalis.
Face detail of Last Day as a Caterpillar
Something newish. Made with Sterling-ware. Post-processed until it molted its skin and silk glands spun a cocoon. Poem from my larval brain refusing to transform into an adult.
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Last Day as a CaterpillarWherever wobbly bodies balloonThey slough off each drab cocoonAs spiracles gape and noggins nodAntennae dart about for foodInstar limes the inner sheavesMoulting on the mulberry leavesSpinnerets transform to silkBefore being boiled in milk[Disposable Poem Tuesday July 3, 2007]Dr. Mike
Nice poem.Good to see you back.
well, I have to disagree, you my friend do not have a "larval" brain ??This is wonderful, I love the colors..
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